Fated
by winchester7996
Summary: Alfred F. Jones and Matthew Williams were regular teens, but due to past lives and love their lives will be forever changed when they realize there is more to the world than what they used to know. Vampires and other supernatural beings involved. ukXus, prucan, and more . . . mpreg/pregnancy. This is a re-write of one of my works, no longer posted, enjoy the changes.
1. How it Starts

Okay, this is a re-write of the original Fated written by me, though it is no longer up. For those of you that have read the original I can assure you that the plot will barely change and that this newer version will be more intricate in detail, solid plot line, and less grammatical errors. Please note that I do not have anyone proofing theses chapters, therefore, there will be mistakes here and there, I'm sorry but I am only human. _Italics_ are thoughts. Please enjoy this new, updated version

* * *

Alfred F. Jones and Matthew Williams were twin brothers, who were born days apart from one another. Matthew was the eldest born on July 1; Alfred was born three days later on July 4. Alfred had aged golden hair with a small tuff of hair that stood straight up, defying the laws of gravity; Matthew had that aged golden hair, though with a hint of orange was visible seen, and a long strand that curled and drooped downwards following the laws of gravity. The older was more docile and soft-spoken, almost invisible at times; the younger was more wild and boisterous in voice. Alfred's eyes matched the sunny afternoon skies; Matthew's resembled the unique shade created from the invading colors of night onto the afternoon sky.

For the twins it was a regular day: school went by period by period and then it was over. The bell had just rang releasing the students of all grades to go home. Some had sneaked out from their last period to avoid the moving sea, while others got caught and were thrown about by the movements of the others. Those who were stronger used their strength to push their way through the crowd to get onto the dirt covered yellow bus, while others rushed downstairs to their cars to give a valid attempt on beating the traffic. However, Alfred just stretched in his last period class and rubbed his eyes as his arms sank down from stretching. He had just been listening to his music while getting ahead on his calculus homework and before he knew it the period had ended to what seemed liked the blink of an eye.

Matthew, on the other hand, had been busy in the art room. The recent project was psychological portrait and the older brother had drawn his eyes and part of his hair, including his long strand that fell, and had been painting the background white that faded to black in a diagonal manner. He had finished the background by the time the bell had rang and was working on capturing the emotions behind his portrait's eyes: one light than the other to reflect the positives of his life, while the other darker to express the negatives and white tears fell into the black to represent hope. A small smile made its way onto his lips at his work, Matthew was proud of it. He grabbed a sponged and cleaned the table, while packing away his project. As he finished his eyes fell to the students rushing towards the bus, some smiled while other were sad. Laughter was heard from some, while others just kept quiet. In a way, Matthew felt envy rise in him as he saw groups of friends gathering and waiting their parent to pick them up, especially if the child's parent was his or her mother. "Hey bro," came a sudden voice, "Want to get something to eat?"

The older tensed at the voice, but instantly recognized it. "No, I'm not hungry Al. You go on ahead and I'll see you on the field."

"You sure? I don't mind picking you up something."

Orange golden locks danced as Matthew shook his head, "No, I'm not hungry."

Sighing heavily, Alfred looked at his twin. _Something's wrong. What is it?_ "Alright Mattie. I'll see you on the field then." The younger took tentative steps away before leaving when he say no type of reaction coming from his twin. "Oh Mattie," spoke Alfred to himself when he was far enough away, "Don't keep to yourself so much . . . I'm here for you." Steps echoed as Alfred descended down the stairs and then light chirps of birds sang in the breeze as the youth walked through the parking lot to his car. The door slammed shut without meaning to, but Alfred couldn't help but not care at the moment. Instead of going out to a McDonald's or a Burger King he just sat in his car thinking.

His brother filled his mind, not just Alfred's but also Matthew. Alfred thought of how Mattie would keep to himself; Matthew just stared off as images of his twin and life flashed before him. The older kept on remembering memories from childhood to present day, whether good or bad. Alfred just sat back and decided to nap, but his concern for his big brother continued to torment him. He worried that Matthew was depressed since his best friend had disappeared a few days ago, leaving his twin alone. There was no trace of the girl except small pools of her blood where she was last assumed to be seen.

Matthew really wasn't thinking of his "friend", for she was truly a front to keep Alfred satisfied that he wasn't alone, he was thinking about how his life didn't have meaning anymore. He wasn't happy anymore. He hated being around his twin because of some unknown reason. He hated his father and "mother". Yes, he seemed to hate everything and anything. Happiness was nothing more than a dream to him as of now. Distance had appeared between him and his family, especially his twin. This phenomenon occurred recently and Matthew didn't know why or how it happened, it just did. Matthew knew he was hurting his brother and causing worry, but he couldn't help it.

Violet-blue eyes gazed upon the wall clock and a heavy sigh erupted from pale lips. "Game time," spoke Matthew, voice full of emptiness. He lifted his body up and walked down to his car. Silent steps as he rushed down the stairs and eyes squinting from the harsh rays of the sunlight making contact with him eyes. However, his eyes, even though strained, were capable of seeing his brother's navy blue 2006 Honda Civic. Feeling his eyebrows furrowing together the older walked to the car and knocked on the window, "Al?" he asked tentatively.

The knock alerted Alfred as he shot from his resting position into a sitting position. "Mattie?" Quickly he unlocked his car door and looked up at his twin. "What's up bro?" he smiled.

"I thought you said you were going to get food before the game," stated Matthew.

Sky blue eyes looked down at the floor of the Civic, "Nah man. Stuff is so unhealthy and I need to cut back on my intake."

_Not again. I refuse to _this_ again with you Al. _"Don't sprout your bullshit with me because if I find out that you're going back into _old habits_ then I swear god I'll beat the living shit out of you," spoke the older with a deadly edge in his voice.

"I'm not, Mattie, I swear!"

A blonde brow raised itself as it stared down upon it's owner's twin. "The why aren't you eating anything before a game? You aren't ill and I say you barely touch your lunch today. Explain yourself now or so God help me . . ." warned Matthew.

"Mattie I've been worried about you and I didn't have an appetite today from being worried," spoke Alfred honestly.

"You're eating something before the game." With that said Matthew turned to his red 2005 Honda Civic and dug in the backseat. He fished out a granola bar and a juice box. After grabbing his soccer bag Matthew returned to his brother and threw the food at him. "Eat it now."

"Mattie, I'm not feeling it right now. I'm worried about you ever since your friend disappeared."

Eyes shifted relentlessly as the others twitched with annoyance, "Stop trying to get of eating and eat your food. Food gives you strength and we need a strong keeper if we're to go to sectionals, win, and then go to regionals."

Alfred opened the juice and drank it slowly. He popped open his trunk as he sucked on the small straw a little at time. Then he got up and went to his trunk and zipped open his bag. Setting down the juice, Alfred dug through his bag and pulled out his jersey and shorts. He smiled lightly at seeing his number on the back, big bold black numbers that made out fifty, he pulled off his school shirt, which was a plaid button up with sleeves rolled three-fourths of the way, and exposed his tanned torso. Matthew cringed at the sight of his twin's body, his eyes quickly adverting to the blackened paved road. However, his eyes drifted back to watch his twin stretch out before slipping on his jersey. _His ribs are poking out again. Not to mention his muscles seem to be there, but off . . . Al must have gone back, but why? I mean the struggle we had last time over this._

"Alfred Freedom Jones . . ." broke Matthew, ". . . Explain yourself now and be truthful, have you gone back to starving yourself?"

Rolling shoulder blades stopped as bright blue eyes stared at the nearly identical person of their owner. "For God's sake I haven't. Have you not been listening to me? I've been worried sick about you!" Alfred pulled his bag out of the trunk and slammed the door down, "I've been so worried about you because you've distanced yourself from dad, from Sarah, and from me!" Bangs could be seen in Alfred's vision as he shook his head before turning to go to the field. "HOW FUCKING DARE YOU!" yelled Alfred in pure anger. His walk turned into a sprint and he approached the soccer field quickly. There he shed his pants and put on his shorts, then his soccer jersey, which was a special ordered American flag jersey. There he practiced his jumping and when the other members of the team arrived he had them try to shoot into the goal that he was defending. Anger pulsed through him.

Matthew just watched from the parking lot and shook his head. He turned around and slid his bag into the backseat before sliding into the driver seat and driving home. His teammates watched and then turned to Alfred with curious eyes of different shades. Alfred just shook his head and concentrated on soccer. "Alfred what's going on with Matt?" asked Johnny.

"Don't want to talk about it," muttered Alfred as he waited for some sort of action.

The gleam of a black 2010 Sedan pulled up and out walked the boys' coach, Franklin Martinus. As he walked he did a mental count of who was there and immediately asked, "Where's Williams?" When no one answered his almond shaded eyes narrowed onto Alfred, "Jones do you know where your brother is?"

Eyes closing as a deadly look made it's way onto Alfred's face spoke more than his words, "He probably went home." His teammates took steps away from Alfred as they could see the imaginative flames starting to quickly encase the young American. "Matthew didn't look well when I last saw him and I told him to go home."

* * *

At that point in time Matthew had just parked his car in his family's driveway and was on his way to walking inside. His feet making small little tapping noises with each encounter to the paved driveway. He quickly walked inside and ran up the stairs to his room. Door was opened and shut with lightning speed as a black Nike bag soared in the air to land in the corner of the crimson colored room. A loud thud of the bag was followed by the creaking of springs in the bed as more weight was added to it. Long deep breaths were taken as hands searched for blankets that were pulled up over the orange tinted blonde hair. _I should stop butting in his business I guess. I can't be his perfect older brother, though I never was perfect. Alfred always had the friends, the attitude, the charisma, and the luck, but when someone actual starts to care for him he blows up . . . I . . . Want to . . . Die._

A soft knock was heard underneath the plethora of blankets and a low, audible moan escaped his paled lips. The door opened quietly, the only sign being light racing into the room. "Hey Mattie," came a soft and nurturing voice, "Don't you have a sectionals game?"

"Yes," breathed Matthew as he silently begged his stepmother to leave.

"Then why are you here?" Gently steps were barely audible until a shift in weight on the bed was felt and a warm hand finding his forehead underneath the mound of blankets, "Not feeling well?" A moment of silence came, "You don't feel like you have a temperature. What's wrong sweetheart?"

Matthew just pulled away from the warmth of Sarah's hand, "Just tired and lightheaded with a headache resting against the base of my neck and head."

The weight was relieved from the bed as the door was partially closed with only Sarah's upper body still in Matthew's room. "Alright honey, just take it easy and sleep. Your body needs it if you're feeling this bad. I'll bring you up something light later. Sleep well," came the soft words and then she was gone. Matthew was allowed to wallow in his own self misery once again.

As he laid there, Matthew felt something warm spreading against his pillow opened his eyes a crack while feeling his face with his fingers. "Tears?" More of the clear liquid continued to fall as Matthew sensed something bad about to happen, but he couldn't place it. "Alfred," spoke Matthew, "Something about Alfred is going to happen." The older tried to get up to go to his twin, but his headache exploded and forced him back down onto the bed. Whimpers were made as Matthew felt helpless. "Al . . ." whispered Matthew as he fell into the black depths of peaceful unconsciousness.

* * *

Martinus just took the lie and walked to the bench and started to redo the lineup for the sectional game. As he thought of who to replace Matthew that night the opposing team's bus pulled up and out popped the blue colored jerseys. Coach Martinus got up and shook hands with their coach as the opposing team started their warm ups. As the two coaches spoke the referees started to arrive and then they called team captains as the clock of the scoreboard read five minutes to six. Alfred walked over and shook hands with the other captains. When the coin was flipped the other team called heads, but the coin landed in Alfred's team's favor. A small smile developed as he chose the goal with the sun facing him first. Once in position and when each goalkeeper gave a wave of their hand the game started. Many slide tackles, throw ins, and penalties were taken into account as the time ticked away. Alfred had used his anger to fuel his reason to protect his goal. Even after the switch he refused to let a ball in, whether he dove to capture the circular object or made an impossible maneuver during a penalty kick to make a save, he did it all. At the end of the heated match Alfred's team would carry on to the semis, while the opposing blue team went home. Alfred clapped hands and was noted by Goris, the coach to the other team, as a remarkable talent. Martinus gave a small speech for the victory and turned loose his team.

Alfred was the first one to leave the field and leave the school grounds. Anger was still throbbing within him to the point that he didn't notice a cut on his arm from a dive for a save. He drove at a fast speed to his house, music on high, and deep in thought he didn't see the figure trying to cross the road until he heard a loud **thump**. His feet finding the brakes before his brain could function and tell him to stop and check and his body leaving his car to see what he hit. His fears of hitting someone grew as he saw something pale behind his car. Those fears grew more as he walked closer and saw a pale hair and pale skin marred with blood. _Oh God no! I can't believe I just . . .! I . . . What do I do?!_ Alfred sank to his knees by the bloodied figure and checked the person's neck for a pulse, nothing. "Oh God!" Alfred shrieked. His mind turning from anger to pure shock.

His pale eyes were able to scan the limp figure: male, light hair, Caucasian, lithe, ice cold, and eyebrows that made a fuzzy caterpillar look normal in size. "D-dude? H-hey, wake up m-man," tried Alfred as he gently shook the figure. "Come on man! Thi-this is a sick joke," Alfred didn't know what to think. His mind had gone into full panic to the point that he didn't realize the small twitch of fingers of the bloodied man, nor the slight jerk of his enormous eyebrows. It wasn't until a small moan-like noise escaped the man's lips and sprinted it's way to Alfred's ears, in which Alfred took a sigh in sweet relief. "Thank God! I thought you were _dead_!"

"There is no God boy," spoke a gruff voice from bloodied lips, "God is for the weak, for those who have no hope or know of my world."

Alfred blinked and helped he man into a sitting position, leaning the man's upper body against his car. "How are you feeling?" Eyes darted open and expressed deadliness towards the American, but quickly died away as seeing Alfred's face for the first time. "Sorry, stupid question dude," Alfred said as he tried to calm himself. _His voice sounded British . . . _

"Quite actually, but it is understandable to why you would ask. Do you mind helping me?" asked the Brit.

Blue eyes twinkled a little within the red lights of the taillights because Alfred had always considered himself to be a hero to any degree he could. "I sure can dude! What do you need?"

A small grin stretched it's way against the pale face of the British man. "For starters no more addressing me as dude and second don't scream." _Why would I scream? I'm a total her-_ Alfred was broke from his thought as the man he had just hit lunged at him. Before the teen knew it he was on his back, head hitting the pavement, and vision fuzzy. "Thank you for this," spoke the Brit in a low voice, "I'll be as gentle as possible because of who you are and what you mean to me love. . ."

_Love?!_ Alfred didn't get more than another half second to finish his thought about what the stranger had just said because the bloodied blonde sank his mouth against Alfred's throat, to where the American felt a surge of pain erupt. Alfred's eyes squinted from the pain and mouth forming an "o" as he tried to scream, but his voice was lost. It burned at the spot on his neck where the man had latched onto, almost radiating. What terrified Alfred more was the feeling of the man's smooth lips moving slightly from relaxed to tense, a drinking motion. It was then Alfred F. Jones believed that he was going to be killed right then and there. His world was becoming fuzzier and slowly being engulfed in black. The pain started to die away little by little. The saying "your life flashing before your eyes" was become a real statement for Alfred as his thought of his earliest memories to his newest ones. The only thing he could think of was how he left his relationship off with his brother. In a mangled voice Alfred whispered, "Sorry Mattie . . . Best big brother ev . . . ver . . ." The pain started to intensify again and this time Alfred passed out from it, slipping into the unknown blackness that engulfed his world.

The man kept on drinking until his thoughts about his victim's identity came crashing down onto him and he pulled away as gently as he could. Licking his lips he inspected the wound he had created and grimaced, "I wasn't as gently as I should have been to you. I'm sorry that we had to meet under these terms, but it is no longer safe for you here love." The Brit kissed Alfred's paled cheek gently before picking him up and looking at Alfred's car. "Sorry for what I'm about to do," said the Brit as he placed one of his bloodied hands underneath the car. With a flick of his wrist the car was flipped and the weight crushing down on the weaker parts of it's frame. "This time I will keep you safe."

With that, the man and Alfred disappeared into the night.

* * *

Matthew awoke to the early morning rays peeking through his widows. He frowned because his curtains were opened to reveal the light. _Strange . . . I could have sworn they were shut when I got home yesterday._ He shook it off as he got up and went to his twin's rooms. The older wanted to apologize and just make sure that Alfred was okay. After a few knocks that steadily grew in volume and no response from the other side did Matthew open the door: his pale head peaking in. Violet-blue eyes widened at the mess in the room, but were more shocked to see the bed empty. After closing the door the older went downstairs. However, a small frown formed when he heard his stepmother crying and his father's voice. _Father is never home at this time. Ever._

Curiosity took over as Matthew followed the voices and walked into the kitchen with surprise:; his stepmother was pale and her face reddened from tears, while his father was trying to be calm, though slowly failing. "Dad, what's wrong?" Matthew asked.

Light blue eyes looked up to meet Matthew's more violet ones. "M-Mattie . . ." staggered the boy's father, "Your brother . . . Alfred . . . He . . . He never came home last night," a long pause began as Matthew's father fought back tears, "And this morning they found his car . . . flipped . . . But the . . . The worst is that Alfred . . . Your brother . . . My son is missing."

Matthew looked at his father with an unchanged look because he was hoping that his father and stepmother would stop the charade and Alfred would pop out from around the corner and yell "April Fools" even though it was months after April 1. His hope dwindled as his father went by to trying to calm his stepmother and her crying only grew. Matthew's facial expression quickly changed from hoping to pure shock. "D-dad . . ." started Matthew, "Please tell me that this is a horrible prank." Matthew tensed as he waited for his answer.

"No, Mattie. It isn't. The car . . . Al's missing . . . Blood covering the car . . ." Mr. Jones broke off into silence as he tried to keep his tears from showing and holding onto his wife, who started a new array of tears at the words her husband said.

Shaking his head, Matthew backed out of the room and went to his room. He dug around for his cellphone and called his brother's cell, hope barely there. There was a few seconds of a pregnant pause, but then the voicemail picked up, "We're sorry, but the number you have dialed is not in service at the moment. Please leave a message for . . ." a break from the electronic voice.

"Alfred F. Jones, the HERO!" came a voice that vibed with life.

"Al?" questioned Matthew for any means of hope.

Then the electronic voice came back, "after the beep."

Matthew waited for a few seconds before he heard the beep. He tried to say something, but he could get the words out. He kept trying, but every time he did nothing came out. This continued until there was another beep and at that point Matthew just hung up.

"Alfred . . ." whispered Matthew, "Where are you?"

* * *

Emerald green eyes stared intently on the sleeping human. "I will keep you safe this time," the voice carried a hint of sadness, "I will not fail you again because I love you and I'm so sorry." A pale hand of the stranger ghosted it way through Alfred's sweat laden hair. The soft intakes of breath from the sleeping form were enough to comfort the stranger as he continued to watch with awe.

_I will not fail our love, because I cannot lose you again._

* * *

I hoped you enjoyed this small chapter/intro to the story. Review if you like and well . . . Like is you liked the story. Thank you for reading.


	2. Slowly Unfolding

It had been three hours since the once bloodied blonde and his "victim" had boarded the plane. No one was at the airport for once and for that the vampire was incredibly grateful because no one would question the blood that stained his pale skin and clothes. Not to mention, no one there to question why he was carrying an unconscious teenager with blood clotting that aged golden blonde hair. Not even the security guards stopped him out of pure curiosity or the gnawing feeling that something was wrong, but maybe that was due to the aura that the vampire let radiate off him: untainted fear and confidence to dominate any who crossed him.

The vampire was staring intently on the teenager on his bed, for it was his private jet they were on. "You're still as lovely as ever," smiled the vampire, "Though you have a little more fat on your bones, but I could care less about that because you are here now and that is what counts poppet. Everything about you is the same as my memory, even your exquisite blood – like the rarest of wines." Wandering emeralds kept looking up and down Alfred's sleeping figure until a pale hand ghosted against that bronzed skin, a rather harsh comparison between the two tones, and a soft thumb gently rubbing against the skin underneath Alfred's closed eye. "I have missed you," spoke the accented voice, "So, very, much." Every nerve in the vampire's body burned with a need that pushed the pale body to bend forward and kiss Alfred on his forehead. No sound of air being forced between thin lips or the brushing of softer skin against rougher skin.

However, as the kiss lingered movement underneath the whitened lips began slowly. At first it was a small jerk of skin creasing together. Then came the vocalized noises of a voice trying to form words, but only forming "Mmmmmmmms". Followed by limps moving to stretch out muscles that had gone a little over three hours of being unused, while eyelids squinted further shut at an attempt to wave off sleep. Finally, tanned lids opened to reveal the light sky blue eyes, but that moment lasted only a few seconds before those lids encased the blue once again. However, after another vocal noise and sound of movement as a muscular body pulled its self-up into a sitting position, those lids opened up again. Black within the unique blue moved from the left to the right, absorbing the surroundings. The sleeping daze that first captured the blue turned into eyes holding surprise and panic. Body movements followed because Alfred jumped out of the bed as quickly as he could, which wasn't all that fast with his head injury. "Where?" shot Alfred. "Who?" he questioned as his eyes darted frantically around the room and always came back to the vampire's lithe form.

A small smile curved it's way along the vampire's smooth and delicate lips. "You're on a private jet," Emerald never leaving Alfred's tottering body, "Poppet." A hesitant step was taken towards Alfred; hands gently spread shoulders length apart, if not more, and raised slightly to show that he meant no harm. "As for _who _I am, poppet, I am Arthur Kirkland." The sound of the "a" being dragged out slightly longer than an American accent and had an "ah" sound that covered the "r". The "th" was just annunciated enough to be heard, yet gently. As for the second "r" was heard and with the "u" before it created a light "uh" sound that contrasted greatly against an American accent. The paler blonde's surname was a different story, however. The "k" gave that familiar sound in both, English and American accents. While the "i" lightened the "r" sound to make a rounded sound of an "er" and returned to the strong pronunciation of the "k" sound. Then the second syllable of the vampire's surname sounded like the "a" was replaced with and "i". Altogether his name sounded like Ah-the Kerk-lind.

"Are you," he started but stopped for a moment as his head exploded from pain, "Are you British?"

A chuckle echoed from where the vampire stood, arms dropped by his side, and mouth agape revealing flawless, snowy teeth. "Of all things you pick up on with this _first_ encounter, my accent. Oh my dear poppet . . . For you that is something that you would do." Wincing from the pain of the laughter, Alfred held onto his head. _Dear God. Why didn't this hurt that bad when I first woke up?_ Those thick brows of the Englishman lifted until they seemed to touch his hairline, "Alfred, darling, you are not feeling well. Please lay back down and rest." Arthur had taken the last steps towards Alfred and helped the teenager lay back down. "Rest," he cooed as his pale, slender fingers ran through the aged golden hair. This small gesture of whatever Alfred could call it was enough to coax him back to sleep. Golden lids closed over sky blue eyes and soft breathing lighten more until Alfred had drifted back to sleep. "I'll be here," Arthur whispered so gently as if to a newborn child, "Waiting for you . . ."

The rich emeralds began wondering again, to the left, then the right, and finally to a door. Imaginative headaches began to pound their way through Arthur's skull. _Please . . . Put it off, but procrastinate. I do not have to do it just yet._ A contented sigh escaped it's way through the pale, thin lips. However, feels that resonated from that sigh quickly dispersed as another thought pulverized it's way through. _I cannot procrastinate for it is not like a gentlemen to put off important work . . . Even if it may just end up with bickering and leading to no further resolve._

With great effort Arthur pulled himself up from his knees by Alfred's side and carried himself to that forsaken door. A door that was like any other door on a plane, though customized to fit the purpose it was intended to perform: Arthur had requested, no ordered was what he did, that the door be the most brilliant shade of red to establish a warning signal. Arthur had two more doors of the same fashion, though different style, in his other main houses that he resided in. Cold fingers hesitantly grabbed the doorknob that was even colder than a being that has gone without a heartbeat for over millenniums. Step by step the Brit walked inside. It was cold and the seat was even colder when skin sheathed in cloth touched it. "Bloody hell," he spoke lowly, "Why is this tortuous?" The question was obviously rhetorical and only meant for Arthur's ears as he opened his laptop. Fingers hummed for a few seconds before pressing own onto the power button. A small ray of light emitted from the device and then color exploded as the windows log in showed up. Fingers found themselves typing in a password and then the background of the laptop emerged, an image of Alfred. Again, fingers found themselves lightly stroking the delicately painted curvature of the drawing's cheek. "Even then, love, you were beyond words to describe," a gentle look tamed it's way over the stoic features of the vampire, "As you are today."

Pulling his fingers away Arthur clicked the cursor over the Skype button. Seconds ticked by then that all too familiar sound of Skype opening up was heard. A small groan rushed out of Arthur's lips, but soon a more furious rush of air burst out as the alert sound of Skype rushed out, one after another after another. "Bloody hell!" snarled Arthur. He watched as the number quickly skyrocketed on the notifications and then peaceful bliss. Pale lids closed over his eyes like the lid of a treasure chest over the riches tucked inside.

But then, "Bloop!"

"You have got to be bloody joking!" roared Arthur as his eyelids snapped open to reveal burning emeralds. They scanned at the source and he clicked on the first of his contacts: Allistor Kirkland. His fingers began typing furiously and then harsh hit on the enter key. '_Really you limey of a brother?! I'm obviously blood here. Now, speak or I will leave.'_

The sound of someone calling rang aloud and Arthur quickly tapped on his mouse that made his cursor accept the call. The vampire peered at the door in hopes that Alfred did not wake, but his concern was cut short. "Limey eh?" questioned a thick voice, "If 'm the limey what does that make you, wee brother?"

"God save the Queen," muttered Arthur in quick prayer, "The bloody one that rules your Scottish arse. Now, what did you want git?"

Arthur's eyes glanced at the screen for the first time that evening and noticed how smoky it was where his brother was. However, the smoke did not disturb the same piercing emeralds as they glared through the screen at Arthur. Crimson hair was blurry as the figure moved his head and tapped his cigar ash into, at least what Arthur hoped, an ashtray. "Just because you overcame me does not make you the ruler, wee brother," Those last words spoken with extra menace packing behind them. "As for git I am not one. That is a title to Dylan, aye." Shaggy locks swayed under the movement of a hand as it combed through. "I wanted to know if you were okay."

"Does wee 'Scotty' have a little caring heart for his dear wee brother?" sing-songed Arthur mockingly.

Fire began to burn in Allistor's eyes, "I do when it deals with _him_ and as for being a wee one then 'll beat the living shite out of you to prove 'm not." A dark puff of smoke emerged ungracefully from Allistor's mouth before he settled back in his chair. "Do you understand?"

Sighing to himself Arthur nodded his head. "Yes, I do. But rest assured I am safe and so is Alfred. As for the problem I do not know. He . . ." Arthur frowned at the loss of words, "He still has influence ov-over me." _God I feel weak to admit that I was against him._

"I see." Allistor scratched his chin, bristle being heard as nails grazed skin and hair. Emerald eye's belonging to the elder brother glowing with fury. _That bloody arse of a Frenchy has influence over you?! Think of all that he has done! _Anger was radiating off Allistor as he thought quietly to himself and before Arthur could fully see his brother's image on the screen, after the latest movement, his Skype account notified him that the call was dropped.

Arthur just stared at the screen. _It's not like he was that badly hurt from him . . . Or was it due to the involuntary effect of F-Fr . . . That bastard from taking away her? Heather was it? Maybe I should thank my lucky stars that Allistor got off, then again it is like him to be predicable. _A light _click _came from Arthur closing his laptop. After a quick stretch and small moan of relief Arthur was back up and walked back into the warmth of the rest of the plane, closing the red door tight behind him.

The sleeping form of Alfred quickly became the center of attention to Arthur's eyes. Reclaiming his seat Arthur watched quietly. He enjoyed watching Alfred sleep because of the tiny details: from the little movement of his broad chest nursing on the air or the way eyebrows jerked a little while his eyes moved in motion to a dream that will forever be an unknowing dream to most. Emeralds continued to watch the sleeping form. "Just like when you were a child," whispered Arthur as quietly as he could. He remembered how Alfred could have slept through a storm or an atomic bomb, but those nightmares, which lessened with age, would come about and awaken the American as quick as lightning. Closing his eyes Arthur remembered how much he desire to be there to comfort him when a monster was in his closet or under his bed. That silly monster that was a sound or shadow or a piece of clothing out of place. Oh, how Arthur desired so very much to be able to leap through Alfred's window and be his hero by comforting him in any ways possib-l-e – "Dear God," Arthur spoke as his eyes widened, "I am a sick pervert."

Alfred moaned lightly and rolled onto his other side at the sudden sound of noise that had erupted form Arthur's mouth. "A-Artie," stuttered Alfred in his sleep.

Green eyes widened in surprise, "Alfred . . . You never cease to amaze me. You are remembering now, love, aren't you?" With an easy movement Arthur was on his feet and beside Alfred's side, while holding his hand. "I'm here. Let me see . . ." Emeralds were covered with porcelain lids as Arthur let himself evaporate into Alfred's dream.

* * *

It was nearing twenty-four hours since Alfred had disappeared and Matthew was in the middle of his search extensive search for his twin.

Matthew stopped for a moment, his back resting against an old and decaying tree. "Where are you?" breathed Matthew heavily, "Where? Al?" He had never thought that something like this would ever happen or if it did it would have happened to him and not Alfred. Violet-blue eyes looked up at the fading blue sky and all they could see were Alfred's eyes. "You damn goofball!" Matthew punched the tree besides the one he was resting upon. He winced slightly as he felt pain shoot up his nerves through his arm and then into his core. Pulling back his arm he examined his hand with the darkened light of the nighttime sky: blood was visibly seen on his pale knuckles and slowly oozing.

The stress was starting to become too much as the pain registered more and more. He had spent all day searching since the moment the news flew into one ear and out the out the other before sadly returning again. Matthew remembered running outside his door in blind hopes that it was all a lie, but fate is cruel that way because as the door was flung open there was Alfred's crushed Honda Civic. Metal bent at all angles from the weight and scratches lined the top portion of the vehicle from the asphalt. As Matthew inspected more of the vehicle he noticed that there was blood dried onto the tires and a copious amount had left itself engraved on the rear. The next stop was the spot where the car was found: there Matthew found traces of blood, but nothing about a struggle or Alfred being dragged away . . . There was nothing. As of now, Matthew was thinking that he was not too intelligent to just follow a trail nonchalantly, but his driving reason was for some hope to find his twin, his best friend, his other half, his other life.

Now, the skies have turned completely black except for those millions of stars helping to light an endless trail amongst them. Violet-blue eyes appearing fully violet now as they star up at the endless sea of black. "Shit . . ." groaned Matthew, "I need to get home." Sighing, the older stood up and started to maneuver his way back the way he came. The pathway that Matthew had taken earlier was now covered by the forever blanket of shadows at nighttime. Instead of turning left at a small bend the older twin remained going straight. Small noises escaped from the invisible hands of the nighttime shadows every few seconds, coming left and right, even behind and forward. Cringing at each sound Matthew kept pressing forward.

Then, the sound of what seemed like someone was behind him. Violet turned to look back at pitch black. _Where is the moon? _Shivering slightly, Matthew turned his head back and kept moving. However, when the sounds came he moved quicker and quicker until he was running. _Where am I? I . . . Should know where I am! _Running quicker than he would have for soccer Matthew heard a loud snap from his left and looked to see: a pair of cerulean eyes staring at him with a crazed look. However, a large object, most likely a tree, collided with Matthew's running form. A sickening crack echoed throughout the woods and ended the noises of the animals of the night. Matthew fell backwards and stared at the sky, his vision become blurred with each second passing. "Ughhh," escaped his pale lips. That was the most coherent thing that Matthew could muster as more pain ran though his body that originated from his left leg.

Long golden locks appeared within the older's fading sight, dangling there as the wind gave each strand a beat to move to. Even with a blackening world Matthew could see a grin curl against the pale skin laced with stubble against the chin. "I have you now, Alfred F. Jones," smiled a heavily accented voice. With the last remaining thought the older laughed to himself. _Whoever he is . . . He sounds French. That "h" was silent . . . _And just like that Matthew faded from the world into blissful unconsciousness.

The stranger remained still for a moment, looking intently at his prey. "My 'ow you remind me of yourself from _zhen._" Cerulean eyes following the trail of a wondrous scent, Matthew's broken leg. "You must 'ave ran very 'ard in order to damage zhat leg of yours like zhis." Pale hands rested against the spot of injury, a jerking motion was released even in Matthew's unconscious state, and the feeling of something warm coating the cool fingers occurred. Another grin appeared as the owner's hand examined his hand, "So delicious looking, mon cher." Without a second's hesitation the long haired vampire brought his hand to his lips and took a long lap with his tongue. The sanguine liquid calming the small fire that had started to rekindle in his throat. A small moan escaped the vampire's mouth at the sweetness of the fine sample. "So good, yet so betraying to know zhat you are against moi." Limbs graced in pastel silk grabbed onto Matthew's form and picked him up easily. "Be zhankful that I am ruining moi shirt for you 'uman. Zhough keep in mind . . . I will make you suffer zhe most painful fate imaginable because you should 'ave stayed dead. I guess zhat means zhat you did not learn your lesson from moi all zhose years ago, non?" Another smile stretched cynically against the stranger's face, "Oh, 'ow I will enjoy re-teaching you zhat lesson."

* * *

"Where am I?" questioned Arthur as he looked around himself. "Where?" Emeralds looking around quickly at the scenery before his mouth formed an "o" at the sight, "It-It can't be . . ." voice faltering as he ended his sentence. Around him was a tavern filled with small groans and laughter, but most chatting about the weather.

"_I don't know if we'll make it," spoke a bearded man with hungry lightly clinging to his eyes, "Food is short and we were not ready for such a harsh winter to come bearing itself at us."_

_A young adult with bronze hair that was pulled gently back into loose ponytail looked at him, "The winter may be hard, but we must be stronger than the winter."_

"_You are not lying there," smiled a youth of no more than nineteen years of age, "We will beat this winter and live to see the greens of spring."_

Tears started falling down Arthur's face as he reached a hand out to his past lover in Alfred's dream, "Alfred . . ." Bottom lip was being pushed hard against his elongated canines causing blood to spill. At that second those sky blue eyes turned and looked up at Arthur's face; the Alfred of the past retained that youthful figure around his face, eyes innocent and brimming with life, hair shinning off the rays of the sun itself. Arthur reached to touch the dream Alfred's cheek, but his hand passed through it and his eyes widened in surprise as he yanked is arm back to keep Alfred's form there. Those eyes kept baring towards Arthur's figure, but in the vampire's heart he knew that he wasn't staring at him, well not him of the present.

Behind himself, a clone of Arthur stood brushing off snow his black coat. His skin lightly reddened due to the elements. After a few seconds the clone looked up, emeralds looking almost lifeless, and searched through the crowd. _"Innkeeper," the Arthur of then inquired, "Do you have a room open for the evening?"_

"'_m sorry lad, but I do not due to this weather, housing being destroyed easily and here being the only refuge." The innkeeper looked apologetic, but Arthur of then and now believed it to be the loss of business, seeing that Arthur looked the rich type. _

_Sighing, "It's fine. I'll manage." The past Arthur started wrapping his coat tight to his form, to ready himself for the elements of the winter yet again, however a voice broke out from the many in the inn._

"_I can offer shelter if you would like," the past Alfred stood up from his seat and walked over, "I have a house with two beds and one is empty. So, to put it to use is a good thing, at least to me it is." A faint blush spread against Alfred's cheeks._

"_No need to offer what you do not wish to kind sir," berated Arthur, "I am in no need of your charity." _

_Alfred placed his golden hand on the black coat and smiled kindly, "I'm offering because I don't think someone with your looks should be left to freeze outside in the cold. We need to be strong and share in order to live."_

_The smile knocked Arthur back a few steps as he blinked several times in order to fill the void of lack of speech. "Ummmm . . . I . . ." stuttered Arthur, "Alright . . . If you insist."_

"God save the Queen!" shouted Arthur of the present, "I was such an idiot stumped by beauty and an easy meal!" Arthur kept shaking his head, but continued to watch the memory. He could even remember each word that was said on their first meeting.

"_Well, whenever you wish to leave we will." Alfred smiled and left to gather his coat and pay his debt for the hot meal. He came back within a few minutes and still boar that smile: kind and open, warming and radiating hopes and reassurance. _

_Arthur smacked himself mentally, "If you are ready then I am as well."_

"_Alright," smiled Alfred, "By the way, my name is Alfred F. Jones and you?"_

"_Arthur Kirkland," responded Arthur quickly._

_A nod of acknowledgement was made and Alfred opened his mouth to say, "Follow me then." The two left and journeyed the half mile walk to Alfred's cabin. Normally it would have been easy, but the snow layered thick and made the journey long and tiresome. Alfred would check Arthur every few steps and offer aid, even though Arthur would shake it off. It took over a half an hour to reach Alfred's cabin. Once inside Alfred went to the fireplace and stirred it before adding kindling to it. Flames started to engulf the small offerings until Alfred threw a heavier log onto of it. "There," smiled Alfred happily, "Home sweet home. What is mine is yours, though it is not much."_

_Arthur turned to look at Alfred, having been looking around the cabin since entering, "That is quite alright. Thank you for your kindness. I owe you for it." Dulled emeralds continued to look from the left to the right, observing their surroundings: a simple log cabin with a table and two chairs and a bookshelf filled with a small abundance of the little miracles. A desk lay tucked in the corner, a chair pushed in underneath the smooth surface of the desktop, and the top lined with papers, ink, and quills. _

_Standing up to his full height, cowering over Arthur, Alfred just shook his head. "No you don't. I'm sure you would have done the same if we were in opposite positions." _

"_I don't believe I would have," inquired Arthur._

"_Never know though," chided Alfred, "However, your room is here," Alfred pointed to the bed by the fire."_

_Emeralds blinked, "Isn't that your bed?"_

_Alfred looked at it then back to Arthur, "Nope, for I sleep in the loft above." A slender index finger pointed to the space above."_

"_I see," blinked Arthur._

"_Yes, now you should sleep as should I. Goodnight." Alfred nodded his head and went up the steps to his bed. Two thunks were heard, one after the other, and Arthur concluded it was Alfred's shoes hitting the floor. A shuffling noise was heard then silence after a small moan of comfort. Arthur listened a few seconds longer before slipping off his boots and sliding under the heavy covers to his bed. It was warm, something that Arthur hasn't enjoyed in a months, and it was welcoming. Drowsiness took over and before he knew it heavy lids slid over his eyes and small snores escaped his lips._

Shaking his head quietly, "I am pathetic." Arthur had relived this moment of his life over and over in his head and now that he had seen it after so long he thought he was going to die from embarrassment. "I am a helpless fool and to think I was planning on feeding from him then leaving. Though, I must admit, I am rather glad I never did." He looked around and took in the scenery. "This house that is now long gone . . . Memories created here that are irreplaceable and the most cherished ones I possess. Is this how you still see me Alfred?"

* * *

With that Arthur let himself fade back into reality. Once mentally there he hugged Alfred gently. "I hope that our love can still exist, even with the forever changing times."


	3. Brief History and Regret

"Oh, what to do with you Alfred," chanted the Frenchman, "What to do with you is zhe true question for je, non?" The long haired blonde gazed at his captive with eyes full of fiery hatred. "If it was not for you zhen d'arthur would be mine alone, but non! You had to 'ave been born zhen. Stupid American!" More fire added to the pools of pool as hatred piled up inside from his unrequited love with Arthur that had originated centuries back. "I will make you suffer and that is my most sincere promise to you."

Aged golden and lightly tinted orange hair fell over Matthew's closed eyes. A soft moan escaped Matthew's lips as his body twitched in sleep, dreams over flooding his entire mental process at the current moment. His eyes flicked back and forth underneath the cover of pale, yet creamed lids.

* * *

_Smoke engulfed the room in billowing clouds of gray in all shades. With each inhale the smoke burned the delicate throat and caused the owner to cough heavily with each intake. Violet-blue eyes wandered around, blinking multiple times to clear the onset of tears that poured out each lid due to the fog of the A fiery blaze slowly creeping in with each second and turning all it touched to blackened ash. More heavy coughs escaped the thin lips. "G-GIL!" screeched the faltering voice. The smoke tearing more into the thin throat as heavy coughing continued to erupt. A pale hand sneaked up to wipe the thin lips and when pulled away revealed blood. 'I don't want to die. Not here and alone. Please, Holy Father . . . Do not let me die here. I . . . I want to live with him. Please!' came the steady thoughts of denial and bargaining._

"_BIRDIE!" yelled an accented voice. "WHERE ARE YOU?!" Red eyes scanned each room of the burning building, their home being destroyed by them. "MATTEA!" Aching ghost limbs pushed forward to move through the burning belongings of their home. Pushing slowly through the blackening debris the ghost of a man kept trying with all his might to put out the fire, to keep their house together._

_Eyes looked in the direction of the voice, but smoke blew in the violet depths as tears began to well up. "Gil," whimpered the weakening voice, "Please . . ." Flames began to lick the pale skin, causing the snowy elegance to melt into angry red scorch marks and followed by the slowly blackening of the areas licked by the flame. Pain spread like lightening through the small body as the flame slowly started to engulf the pale body. Eyes closed in defeat with tears falling in lost hope._

'_I am going to die,' thought the burning body._

_The moment of giving up was within arm's reach, the pain slowly starting to dim away. A dimming thought provoked its way into the weakening figures mind as her body pushed her towards the broken crib and burnt hands clutching her child's stuffed animal hard, a trinket she had as a small child. "Birdie!" yelled the ghost man as he found his beloved. Red eyes brimmed with tears as he laid his eyes upon the brick, crusted form of his lover. He limped his way towards his lover and picked her up gently. Redden limps delicately, yet strongly held the dying female as the ghost of a man pushed himself out of the burning house. The scent of burnt flesh laced the air; meat overcooked in a skillet was similar to the scent, but weaker than the surrounding and repulsive aroma that attacked the albino's elusive sense of smell. Counting in his head the albino counted his faltering step, until his legs gave way: knees bending in and arms encasing the burnt figure tighter as the cool ground aided in supporting his lover. Red eyes looked down at the reddening figure with seared limbs and bared witness to singed hair coated in soot, while the flesh seemed to be ripped off, or even overcooked to the point that the flesh shrank. "Oh, Mattie . . . My Mattie . . ." breathed the albino as he gently licked at her wounds with an even paler tongue, but to no avail for the wounds sustained were too great._

"_G-Gil," smiled Mattea weakly. Her skin and muscles aching at the stretch of her smile, brows furrowed in pain at the motion. ""m sorry . . . 'm goi' to f-fall you."_

_Tearing eyes looked down at fading violet ones, "Fail? Heh, Birdie, you could never fail me. With what we had I'm glad I was able to meet you . . ." Gilbert falter in his thoughts, being scattered and trying his hardest to be strong at the paining situation at hand, "You were my light at the end of my tunnel, you gave me a purpose to keep living after so long of living an unwanted and unfulfilling life, but you gave me a reason to live and filled my . . . No, our life with so much love, happiness, and light of hope and . . . And the fact that we had a child . . . Was proof of our love." The pure thought of his losing his one and only other half was slowly starting to pain him more and more._

"_Watch over her . . . Our little princess," whispered the wavering voice. Dying eyes unnoticing of the tears slipping from red eyes at the horrid fact about their child because they were staring at the snow that was delicately falling in an unseen grace. Gilbert, however, kept his tears up unconsciously at first, but now deliberately: their child had been stolen, taken from the protective grips of her parents. "So beautiful . . . I . . . Fell in love with the snow . . . G-Gil . . ." exhausted Mattea as her weak voice weakened more and finally gave way._

_Glistening red eyes looked at the figure in their owner's arms. Violet eyes stared up towards the sky emptily, open but not seeing: an inert glaze formed against the once lively, vibrant eyes. Snow fell delicately and settled upon the heated skin and melted quickly at the contact of cold meeting hot. "Ich liebe dich, my bluebird . . . My Mattie," cried the albino. Crystals fell down in a steady flow and dropping, one by one, upon the cooling, stilled face. A healing hand graced upon the marred flesh of his lover's once pale cheek. "I will always love you," incisors bit into his lip at the pain of reality._

_A hard sound emitted from behind him and eyes peeked from their corners to gaze at the new editions of their house collapsing into the foundation, flame erupting further. Orange licked away the wood supporting framework and then the foundation was gone. There was nothing left now, no proof of their love._

* * *

Eyes snapped open from a nightmare of the past. _'What was that?' _ Stiff body jostled upwards into a sitting position as a ghost hand slide against the sweat that had gathered upon his forehead. "It felt like . . . Someone was watching me . . . Us." Red eyes looked around the pristine room in unblinking motions as chest moved quickly with breath coming in and out of the ghost body.

* * *

Time seemed to tick by as hours passed on the clock for Arthur, but the constant nudging of Alfred's full awakening was a bother to him as his worried increased. Thoughts bouncing around crazily. _Maybe he won't like me this go around. Maybe he'll be straight. Maybe he'll be afraid of what I am when the time comes. I . . . I . . ." _A pale hand ran through light blonde locks at the crazed thoughts, _"What about when he remembers then? What will happen when that comes? . . . STOP THIS ARTHUR! You need to be there for him. Protect him like you didn't do very well before. You need to be there and love him and help him even if he doesn't . . . Like . . . you._

Sharpened incisors pierced into thin lips as emerald eyes peered over to the sleeping human. "I must have knocked him off his feet to hard," breathed Arthur as he rose to his feet. Quietly he walked over to the bed and sat on the edge. Shaking hand reached over and rested upon the bronzed hair and a smile sneaking upon the vampire's face. "Alfred love," he spoke with some form of courage, "Alfred, come now. Wake love." A small jerk escaped from Alfred's semi-limp body as conscious life started to rouse the American. "Come on, poppet," smiled Arthur as he peered at the American's slowly waking body. "Darling," pressed Arthur, "Up." Golden lids slowly slid open to uncover dulled sky blue eyes, blood seemed to clot the whites, and a glaze over the color made the eyes seem rather dead than alive. "Alfred?" questioned Arthur tentatively. The aged blonde head rolled away from the vampire's form as the voice was causing more pounding within his head.

"St-stop . . ." moaned Alfred, who was clearly in pain.

Emerald eyes looked at the American carefully and rubbed small circles in his back. "Darling, whatever is the matter?"

"It h-hurts . . ."

"What hurts?" worry taking over Arthur's voice quickly.

Golden hands reached up and held fast to an aching head, "M-my head . . . It hurts s-so much . . ."

_It could possibly be a concussion. Maybe from the trauma earlier, when his head was banging off the asphalt when I tackled him to the ground because of my damned lust! _"Love, it'll be alright," whispered Arthur, "Just relax." The vampire slid more into the bed and sat Alfred up enough to slip underneath him, in a nursing position, where the teen's head resting against the coolness of the vampire's lithe abdominals and thin legs surrounding the teen's body. That movement didn't please Alfred by any means because it caused severe pain to radiate with each muscle moved and his head to pound more relentlessly. "It'll be alright, sleep." Arthur kept raking his fingers delicately through Alfred's hair and scanned for any discomforts from his lover.

It didn't take much for Alfred to fall back into the quiet depths of unconsciousness. The pain only seemed to subside when he was in the welcoming blackness of his inner conscious. However, once Alfred was asleep Arthur gently sat the teen up and looked at the knotted, bloody mess of Alfred's head. Emeralds winced at the site and guilt built quickly. "My fault for your current state," breathed the vampire. Blood knotted the aged golden locks at the back of Alfred's head, yet there were occasional black dots here and there, some chunks larger than others, lodged in the open wound: asphalt particles engrained from Alfred's couple second date with the black substance. Clear liquid resonated from the wound in a vain attempt to clean out any bacterium, while blood started to crust over due to time passing by and the oxygen oxidizing. The wound, itself, was rather large for a quick impact, but Arthur guessed that if Alfred was anything like his past self his skull was probably worn thin from other and past head injuries. Pale, chilled lips gently graced themselves upon Alfred's forehead as they pressed down the ailing body part. "I am so, so sorry."

Saddened eyes looked down onto the ailing form. _So weak . . . So fragile . . . This form is fitting in ways, but not this way. Not if you could die from this. _After another soft kiss to Alfred's forehead Arthur contemplated on what to do. Ideas were coming and going, but one always coming back. After a few moments thinking about that one reoccurring idea and the side effects with the possible negative outcomes that could occur Arthur sighed to himself and the empty space that encased the two. "For you, my dear Alfred, I will do this." Arthur pulled up the sleeve to his dark grey and dirtied shirt to reveal his pale, lanky arm, veins seemed to pop out due to the blue-purple coloration nearly popping out in contrast to the natural porcelain skin of the vampire. The vampire raised his thin wrist to his lips and bared his teeth to the flesh, fangs growing his the hiss-like facial expression, and then, when the canines were fully grown, did Arthur let his teeth sink deeply within his soft flesh. Immediately cool blood filled Arthur's mouth; eyebrows furrowed at the vile taste of the blood. His blood lacked the welcoming oxygen and warmth that came from a human's blood, but he let the vile liquid fill his mouth until he could hold anymore with his puffed out cheeks and let go of his wrist. Arthur's free hand pulled Alfred's jaw down a bit to get those soft pink lips to open up, inviting the paled lips of the vampire. As gently as possible, Arthur laid his lips upon Alfred's and opened his mouth up to let his blood flow into Alfred's welcoming mouth. Once his mouth was empty Arthur remained attached and then used his hand to pinch Alfred's nose, blocking all sources of oxygen until he heard that chilling sound, _GULP!_

Pulling back, Arthur noticed the thin line of crimson that had leaked down Alfred's cheek in the process and with a quick flick of his fingers Arthur gathered the liquid on his thumb and licked it up. "I hope that makes you feel better." Smiling, Arthur laid back and kept his arms, protectively, around Alfred. A yawn escaped the paled lips as equally pale lids shut over emerald eyes. Sleep taking Arthur away into a world that he thought ceased long ago.

A groan escaped the cracked lips. _Wh-what was with that dream? Who were they? That ma-_ "JE SAID TO WAKE UP! MON DIEU! LISTEN, YOU AMẺRICAIN SWINE!" Furious cerulean eyes lashed out at the stirring figure below him. A ten black oxford encased foot shot down harshly on the twitching leg of the minor. Next, a sickening snap echoed throughout the building.

Purple-blue eyes snapped open immediately as pain sailed quickly throughout the owner's body. "AH!" cried Matthew as the pain kept radiating. The pain would worsen when the Frenchman would wiggle the toe of his encased foot around. White teeth grit in pain, while slightly stained ones were revealed more as a grin of pure evil emerged.

"Do you not love zhe pain? Non?" smiled Francis, "Well, enjoy it Alfred because zhe pain is all you will get from moi."

Tearing eyes looked up at the sadistic blue eyes, "Alfred?"

"Oui, Je want to torture you for taking 'im away from moi, punishment for you."

"I am not Alfred," breathed Matthew, "I am Matthew Williams."

Cerulean eyes came down to observe Matthew closer. A twitch of annoyance would appear here and there as they examined the jerking, pained body. _'e doe not 'ave blue eyes, not zhat absurd bouncing 'air zhat I wish to rip out with moi own 'ands. _Eyes kept examining, but always came back to the purple-blue eyes. Francis noted the ferocity behind them, a fire ready to burn down a forest. "Williams . . . I never zhought it possible," laughed Francis to himself as he pulled away, "Not what I wanted, but good enough to reach 'im. Make one of 'is followers fall into moi 'ands to crush and maybe obtain Alfred. I can work with this small change." The vampire turned on his heels and walked out to get something. The tapping of his feet fading with each step was like pure music to Matthew's ears, until they stopped. "Williams . . ." Francis tested the surname again on his lips, "Who was your mother?"

"I don't know who she was. She . . . She died after Al was born."

Francis turned on his heels quickly and nearly jumped on Matthew, "Al? Who is zhis Al?" Cerulean yes burning with sudden interest at the new, juicy information.

A twitch of disgust bubbled in Matthew's chest at the closeness of the Frenchman, "Why should I tell you?"

"Because I can make your life every definition of pain imaginable," smiled Francis as he grabbed onto Matthew's newly broken leg and squeezed hard enough for the bones to emit a creaking sound at the pressure.

"AHHHH!" cried Matthew, "AL IS MY YOUNGER TWIN BROTHER!"

"What does he look like?" Francis squeezed harder, getting that pain gave quicker answers.

"NGHHHH! GO TO HELL! I'VE TOLD YOU ENOUGH!" screamed Matthew.

This irritated Francis to all belief possible. "I am zhe very meaning of hell. You will pay for zhat outbreak." Francis let go of the bruised and broken leg, much to Matthew's relief, and got up. He left to small room and came back with something that had red-orange glowing tip and a smoke-like substance emitting from it. "You will pay for zhat remark by zhe fires of 'ell you will." A cruel smile emerged and Francis closed the distance between himself and Matthew quickly, who was trying as hard as possible to get away. A large hand pushed Matthew against the floor and kept him in place. "Now, don't move too much or else," sang Francis. Matthew, of course, jerked to try and get free, but that hot tip got closer and closer until –

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" screamed Matthew louder than ever before. "I'LL BE GOOD! JUST STOP!"

"Mon lapin, you say zhat now, while I am torturing you, but you will not be so willing later when I am not," spoke Francis simply as his arm kept moving. The vampire's knee pressed down harder upon Matthew's jerking chest as his hand pushed the screaming head into the floor with great strength. The hot tip burning into the pale skin, creamy skin and creating and ugly burn that bled wherever the tip touched. The smile of the Frenchman grew as his skillful creation took place, his name in French engraved in the human skin. "Ah, perfect. A symbol zhat I own you now. A mark zhat you'll never be able to erase and forever disgust you."

"What," panted Matthew as pain still emitted from the newest site of torture, "The fuck . . . Happened to you . . . To piss you . . . Off so much . . . That you . . . Are one hell . . . Of . . . A sadistic . . . Bastard?"

"Zhat, mon lapin, is a long story zhat pains me to zhis day," spoke Francis softly as his mind wander a bit at the question, "And not meant for zhe ears of swine." The Frenchman got up and walked out of the small room, locking the door though. He went up to his private quarters and poured himself a large glass of red wine and took a long swig of the sanguine liquid. "A long and sad story . . .Zhat started with zhat woman. . . ." whispered Francis to himself before he guzzled the remainder of his wine. "Ahmes, mon mere." The Frenchman got up and retrieved another bottle of an unmarked brand and opened it, letting the contents pour out into the crystal glass. However, this time the substance stuck to the glass in a grotesque way. Lifting the glass to his lips Francis smiled, "But if Ahmes did not interfere, zhen I would never 'ave known you, Arthur." Greedily, Francis downed the contents and smiled, revealing stained red teeth. The red to be only one shade possible: blood.

* * *

_This story begins with a migratory tribe and it's people possessing fair hair and eyes, as well as skin during a time where nature graced the land because this was the time before humans started cutting down trees, before technology started to fuel the existence of the human race. It was also the time when the human population was little in numbers and spread far out and wide. If someone were to disappear then the tribe of that person would just carry on after a day's search._

_It was a starless night, the moon obscured behind thick nightly clouds. One of the members of this tribe had followed an alluring voice calling to him: it was a magical, light, and feminine voice singing to him to come. He had followed that voice into the woods, far from his people's camping ground, and came across a fair maiden, a woman whose appearance he had never seen before in his, according the time period, long life, the man was twenty-six as of the beginning of the year. The maiden had long, straight black hair and copper skin. Her eyes were almond in shape and the color of her eyes was a darkened brown, almost black. One of her thin, long copper hands reached out for the man; he was captivated by her and took her hand. "Mon cheri," breathed the man. This was the closest he had gotten to another female since his wife's departure from the world when she tried to bring their child into the world, but now that didn't matter, his wife or his child._

_The maiden pulled the man closer and smiled, revealing pearl white teeth. "Ahmes," whispered the woman, her voice was heavy and had a different pull in accent, as she pointed to herself. That smiled turned more sadistic and before the man realized what he had come across the woman had pushed him against a tree, pinning him effectively, and sinking her pearl-like teeth deep within his neck._

_A sucking motion was felt as the woman nursed her thirst. The motion became harsher as the women sucked greedily at the man's blood: she had been hunting for days looking for the right the meal to make her own. Ahmes came across the man a few days back, but decided to watch him and learn from his people. Sticking the shadows and watching quietly until her aching throat could not take it any longer and now it showed, for she sucked greedily and fast. "Please stop," begged a heavily accented voice in pain, "Please . . ."_

_Teeth buried themselves deeper into the long neck that was graced with golden stumble. They kneaded themselves deeper and deeper within that neck, desperate for more of the sanguine liquid that flowed from the twin puncture wounds. The sound of a deep thud came into Ahmes' ears as she heard the man's heart beat slower and slower and losing it's strength with each drawl she took. The liquid was the richest thing she had tasted in years and it was different than the blood of her native people. With a heavy sigh she pulled back and licked her golden lips free of all blood. Testing her knowledge of the man's people she tried out his language from her own lips, "Je vais . . . Vous faire mine." (I will make you mine) The words sounded wrong upon her lips, but the reaction she received made her feel that she spoke right; the man tried to move away quickly, but his body felt too heavy to move. Those pearl-like teeth revealed themselves and they got bigger as the man's body was moved closer to the cool, copper body of the blood-drinker. Long, thin fingers reached up and then went down in a quick motion, a small hiss emitted from the woman's lips._

_It was then the moon decided to allow herself to be seen by the eyes of man, animals, nature, and this devil creature. A pale, translucent blue hue took hold of everything that the moon's wavering light touched. The man vaguely saw the thin line of something slowly running down the copper neck. 'Wh-what is that?" Cerulean eyes continued to look in wonder, even though his sight was dimming: it was slow at first and then the black edges started to invade more. 'Zhis is it. Moi life is over now.' A smiled stretched along the man's face. 'I'm 'appy that I was at least able to 'ave moi son.' Vision darkened enough to where the man couldn't see his surrounding any more, but he could feel himself being lifted up more. Next thing he knew he felt a watery substance against his lips. "Bois, mon enfant," (Stop, my child.)whispered Ahmes._

_Not knowing what to do, the man obeyed: mouth latching upon the self-inflicted wound and gently pressure applied to the wound as he sucked. The liquid was thick, different than the fall time drink his people made with the harvest of the wild grapes. It tasted like . . . Like metal. The woman was now petting the man's hair as he drank, each gulp leading to a stronger swallow, until she pulled him away. "Assez, mon enfant." (Stop, my child)_

_Cerulean eyes opened up as a pain encircled his chest. "Qui êtes-vous?"(Who are you?) whimpered the man as the pain took a stronger hold. The throb of his heart beating inhumanly fast; a cold sweat breaking out across his entire body_

"_Je vous ai déjà dit, l'homme stupide. Je suis Ahmes. Je suis ta mere," (I already told you who I am, stupid human. My name is Ahmes. I am your mother.) smiled the Ahmes, "_

_Quel est votre nom, mon enfant?" (What is your name, my child?"_

_The man's back tensed as his hips lifted high in the air as the pain kept throbbing; mouth opened to the pain, yet no sound coming out. Muscles tired and strained from the inhuman positions the man took during his transition from human to this devil-creature. 'Mon dieu . . . It 'urts . . . 'Urts so much . . .' Eyes closed and a hope of never opening them again came through as the feeling of a million men sitting on his chest took place. Air seemed impossible to gather in his lungs due to that crushing feeling that the man felt. Ahmes just remained calm and ran her fingers through the man's long, golden hair. The pain seemed never ending and continued to what felt like hours and then it was gone. The pain evaporated away to nothing and all that was left was an empty feeling in the man's chest. Cerulean eyes snapped open and looked around in amazement. "Où suis-je?" (Where am I?)_

_A small chuckled erupted from Ahmes' lips. "Nous sommes toujours là où nous étions."(_ _We are still where we were.) Dark brown eyes watched the being in their owner's lap looking around. The world seemed to evolve, though everything remained the same. "Quel est votre nom, mon enfant?" (What is your name, my child?) repeated Ahmes._

_Cerulean eyes looked up at the dark browns ones. "F-Francis."_

_A smile formed, "Francis, mon enfant, nous allons voyager ensemble à partir de maintenant. apprendre et de grandir." (Francis, my child, we will travel together from now on. Learn and grow.) It was then Ahmes realized Francis was staring at the beginning of the morning. "Francis venir," (Francis come) commanded Ahmes as she rose to her astounding height as walked towards a the shelter shade of the forest. She knew that there was a cave in there somewhere due to the bears she saw earlier that month. However, she looked back to see Francis standing, yet looking towards his people's camping site. "Francis venir. Vous n'êtes pas l'un d'eux plus." (Francis come. You are not one of them anymore.)_

_This still didn't get the newly turned Francis to move as he watched his people starting to awaken with the coming of light. He didn't care about the morning rays started to shine through the clouds and burning Francis' face. Cerulean eyes looked as his people started moving about and tearing down their tents to move on. He then saw his son running around calling for him. His heart seemed to ache even though it didn't beat. "Mon fils, Jehan." Bright golden, long locks wavered around as the boy ran around looking for his father._

"_PAPA!" yelled the boy as he searched. His volume and urgency helped to gather others of the tribe to aid him in looking for Francis. Tears started to gently pour down Francis' cheeks at this point in time. His only son was now left alone if he left. Forest green eyes looked all around and finally looked up in a begging motion from an unknown deity to help. After a silent prayer those forest green eyes reopened and was about to start another search but green made contact with blue. "PAPA!" smiled the boy as his legs moved without thinking to reach Francis as soon as possible._

_It was then that the women grabbed Francis by hand and forced him to run; his newly born strength was no match for her years of strength. She pulled him forward as Francis looked back and saw the shadow of his sun coming._

_The child, no more than teen made it to the clearing where his father stood not minutes before. He looks around and saw no trace of his beloved father. A set of warm hands made their way upon the boy's fallen shoulders in a comforting manner as an elderly woman guided him back to village._

_**Years Later . . .**_

"_Allistor!" cried a small boy as he searched for his elder brother. Tears had long since leaked down his pale face as his worry grew due to the night coming. "This isn't funny you limey!"_

_Cerulean eyes looked at the boy from afar and when that child's face looked his way they grew wide and a feeling that Francis never thought would occur again encased his heart with pain. The boy looked just like his son: light golden hair, rich green eyes, and was roughly the same age. The only difference was the hairstyle and the eyebrows. His son's hair was long, having never been cut since the day he was born; the boy in front of him had short and messy hair. His son's eyebrows were slim and natural looking; the boy in front of him had the biggest set of eyebrows he had ever seen in his life, they were just unnatural! _

_However, the difference didn't matter to Francis because he was able to put them aside because he had his 'son' again. His loving, dear son was back. "'ello dear boy. I am Francis Bonnefoy," smiled the older vampire._

"_Will you help me find my limey of a brother?" asked the child innocently. He received a nod from the taller man, whose long hair bounced around from the motion. "I'm Arthur."_

"_Pleasure young Arthur," smiled Francis as he took the boy._

Since that chance meeting the Frenchman loved his on again and off again one sided affair with Arthur. When Arthur got old enough he ran away as fast as he could and this made himself a prize to Francis because it was game to Frenchman. He would follow Arthur around and reclaim his property. This cycle continued until the 1600s when Arthur met Alfred_._

**_A Few More Hundred Years_**

_The Frenchman had just caught up with his 'lover', who had made his latest getaway to the New World, the American Colony. He would just have to ask people if they had seen a man with caterpillars for eyebrows and they would point the Frenchman to the right way. Though, this time he wished he hadn't. When he reached the outskirts of the Jamestown Colony it was nightfall and a single cabin was seen due to the light of a lantern. Francis dismounted his horse and walked up to the wooden building. As he made his way closer he heard something, moaning. This immediately quickened Francis' pace as his eyes looked through the window. Nothing on the bottom floor. "Arthur!" moaned a masculine voice. Tongue flicked angrily against his teeth as the vampire pushed himself to climb up to the top window. Cerulean eyes peeked up through the corner of the window and Francis let his grip go and he fell to the ground. _

_His eyes had just seen his 'lover' making love to a farm boy. Not only just making love, but drinking his blood. His Arthur . . . Tears pricked their way through Francis' eyes at the thought of possible losing Arthur. 'I will not lose him.' This caused the plans to part the two lovebirds and bring Arthur back to him, and only him. _

"_You will be mine again."_

* * *

Meanwhile, Matthew nursed the burn that had been endowed upon his face. The site was still warm from the encounter with the poker and his leg still throbbed at the slightest twitch of his aching body. _I never thought that I could care so much about pain when I've been detaching myself from everything. _Images from the dream that Matthew had before he had been brutally woken up started to flash within his skull. Images of flames flickering away pale, cream flesh by turning it into something grotesque, turning a once beautiful house into nothing more than rubles of debris and ash, and then the imagine of a lovely couple with their child torn apart, leaving the man alone with nothing. It was like a picture waving in front of Matthew's eyes before being burned away by an ignited match that was started from an unseen force. "Why is this dream haunting me so? I've never had a dream like this before, one that seemed so . . . So intimate and personal."

Even with all the torture and pain that had just happened from a psychopath, Matthew's thoughts were always returning to that dream. "Who were they?" An ache started to make its way into Matthew's chest and it set up a home that throbbed worse than Matthew's broken leg. "I . . . I feel like I should know them . . . Why? WHO?!"


	4. Heating Up

Sorry for the delay, but here it is! I will try to update more often once playoffs are done and over with. Thank you for being so patient!

* * *

Dull sunlight danced around the room; lightened particles were seen in the open rays as they swirled within the air, dancing. Dark clouds were being observed by pale violet eyes in wonder. Those eyes knew that rain was coming, it always comes in England. The tall figure stood there and waited; attention captured by the weather than the accented voice speaking. The other person in the room was slowly getting angry as he was ranting and motioning to objects that needed to be moved to one of the guest rooms. "Are you even listening?" growled the albino.

"Ohh," expressed the moonlit kissed hair.

Red eyes rolled unamused, "Mott God Ivan!" A pale fist slammed down onto the once smooth oaken surface of the coffee table that had an indent within it, "Will you stop being so un-awesome and actually give some of your personal help here?! Damn Communist bastard," spoke Gilbert vehemently.

"Does ghost man not like me now?" asked a child-like voice that was laced with the voice of an insane individual.

"It's not that I don't like you; more along the lines of I don't trust people."

Jade eyes watched anxiously as the 'sexual tension' grew; digital camera and video camera on the ready.

"I have you know that I of trustworthiness, da," childly spoke the tall Russian, "And for you information my home country is no longer of Communist views."

"You say that now, but give or take a blink of 'our' eyes your damn country will be the USSR. It will be like some cheesy ass American made film called USSR: The Return or even USSR: Part II." Violet eyes began to glow with anger as well as the build of a demonic-like aural. "Not to mention after that your damned home country will be un colony of Great Britain or the United States of America, hell, even Italy and they have been a weak country since God knows when."

Eyes widen to show the true anger hiding beneath pale skin that was slowly rising to the surface, an anger that would make most assume was that of an insane person. In the background the soft blinking red glow of the video camera's light, indicating that it was recording, was beating away like a heart gone wild on an adrenaline run. Auras between the two strong vampires grew and grew until one could almost physically see it because it was so strong to sense, however, that tension only grew so far until a flying circular object came rushing and hit the Russian in the head. "YOU PROMISED TO NOT FIGHT WITH THAT ALBINO, ARU!" Violet eyes turned to see the petite frame of an Asian man with a low ponytail that rested upon one of his shoulder and the length of which slid down to his chest. "Ivan! LET'S GO!" glared browned eyes. "Do not make me wait . . . Please."

Blinking fast at the scattered words Ivan had to process what was being said. "Wait, the promising to the waiting now – I do not understand Yao-Yao. Please be the explaining to me now?" The silver haired man tried to decipher the one train of thought to the next, seeming to be in random order and not making sense to him; not to make account for the angry of his love from seconds before to this quiet and pleading person.

A sleeved covered hand smacked upon the slightly tanned skin as the head shook once rested within said hand. "Ivan . . ." Due to the hand covering the man's eyes Ivan had no idea that tears threatened, ever so closely, to fall or stain the elegant silk sleeves of his jacket. A gnawing feeling was starting to chew through Ivan's unbeating heart as he reached for his mate, his lover, his other half, his everything, but the hand's destination left in silence. The long and thick sleeve remaining a sheath upon the lightly tanned skin as the owner became smaller and smaller until out of view.

"Yao?" Ivan asked with a small lift of breath. "Why?"

By this point in time the flickering red light from the video camera was turned off and the holder long gone, due to the 'sexual tension' gone as with the hopes of a hot sex scene, a hot guy on guy sex scene. The other being in the room was lounging lazily on the couch and started to clap to the other in the room, "Dumkof." The albino stood up and smacked the Russian's back hard in an unappreciated manner, "Get ready for Arthur's return, dumkof Communist." With that the albino walked out of the commoner room." As Gilbert walked away and up to his room he thought about what happened to try and waver the present thoughts he had had since his dream. "Forgot that today was the day that Yao gave all for you, dumkof . . ." Tears started to gently fall down pale cheeks as he finally walked into his room. Strong legs quickly pushed for the section that was modeled according to his and his lover's destroyed home. A ghost hand reached into the identical crib and grasped a burnt yellow plush, one of the few remnants of his family that was not totally destroyed, and forced it upon a heaving chest as arms clutched it tightly. "Ich wünschte nur, wir hatten diese Chance, Mattie." (I just wish we had that chance.)

The ghost of a man retreated to his bed and laid down, keeping the plush held tightly against his chest. His mind retreating to the time of that dream. "Wer? Ich frage mich, wer?" (Who? I wonder who?) asked Gilbert, allowing his true German, or as he puts it Prussian, come out. "I vonder if it is you, my Mattie, watching over me, even in sleep." That pleasant thought made Gilbert happy, yet sad. The pale body curled up more around the small object of a 'once upon a time' tale.

* * *

Sky blue eyes opened slowly, blinking multiple times to clear the wear of sleep from said eyes. A tanned hand rubbed at those eyes to try and rid that fogginess of sleep away as quickly as possible. The will to push his body up into a sitting position was difficult, bones cracked and crunched as gravity took effect on them. "Where-?" Alfred's voice cracked at the length of being unused for so long.

A smooth and cold object was being pressed into his free hand. "Poppet, here. Drink this and you'll feel a bit more refreshed," spoke an accented voice, an English voice. Taking the advice, Alfred drank the liquid down easily; it sliding down in mass quantity. It was so pure in taste and cool: refreshing, maybe, was the right term. Alfred had no words to truly describe it as he guzzled the liquid down. "Thirty are you poppet?" chuckled the accented voice. A cool object started to pet and comb through Alfred's hair.

"Mmmm…." moaned Alfred at the feeling. It reminded him of when he was little and sick, his mother would get him to drink something or eat something while running her long, warm fingers through his hair. Two skies turned to look at Arthur's figure and they widened slightly. Memories rushed through Alfred's mind so quickly he couldn't process them, yet he knew that there was something to the man. He closed his eyes and stopped drinking the fluids. "W-who?" stuttered Alfred.

A sad smile curled onto Arthur's lips, "How are you feeling?"

"My head . . . it kills…. Sluggish," thought Alfred as his thoughts scattered around.

"I see. Well, I am Arthur. Arthur Kirkland. Please refrain from pet names and do not refer to me as Mr. Kirkland. I will care for you while you are here because you are special to the Master of this house." _O God save the Queen, I lied . . . A cheesy lie at that._

"Sp-special?" asked Alfred, fearing threading it's way in his voice.

Pale lips curled a bit more happily as the thoughts of the two becoming one again and living together and doing everything together . . . All over again. "Yes, you see. The Master believes that you are his soul mate." A red flag seemed to grow and stand tall as Arthur was kicking himself on the inside. _So DAMN CHEESY! I'm horrid at this love nonsense talk! I can't talk easily to you . . . You that has finally arrived . . . You that I love . . . Why am I bad at this?_

Eyes stared dully at the vampire and blinked. "You know how stupid that sounds right?"

"Ummmm, maybe?" the response coming more out as a question as the mental beating persisted more violently like an angry beating drum.

"So, Arthur," tested Alfred, "When can I go home?"

Porcelain hands clammed up from the sweat being produced. "I don't know, Al, to be honest with you." Emeralds looked down at the ground, not even realized that sky eyes were staring at him in wonder. "I really don't know, but the Master . . . He's loved you for a long time."

Soft pink lips pursed up at the thought. _That's not creepy, an old guy likes me and I haven't met him. _"May I please just go?"

"NO!" lashed out Arthur. His eyes widened at his brashness. They ghosted over to see his former mate taken aback from it all as well. The teen seemed surprised, yes, but scared as well. "Sorry, but you can't. You can wonder around the manner when you are feeling better." A small cough filled the vampire's throats as he attempted to think of more things that Alfred could do. "You can meet the others that live here and when you're ready, Al, you may meet the Master. Please get well, love." Once again, emeralds widened in shock at the little bits of information slipping from his mouth and this time they saw the wonder in the American's eyes, trying to decipher the meaning behind some of the words.

"A-Alright."

A curt nod was given to Alfred as the vampire spun on his heels and left the darken room quickly. This gave Alfred a chance to look at his surroundings for the first time. Dark and gloomy: were the only words to describe the room. Gray painted walls and black and gray tiled floors encased the room. Black bed spread with white pillows that had a delicate black pattern on the hem and smaller pillows that were as black as night. Alfred turned his head and saw another glass of that liquid resting upon a dark wooden night stand that was clearly aged, just like the double drawer dressing that stood proudly against the wall like a guard giving watch. It was a classical look, Alfred gave the Master of the estate that, but it was so gloomy.

Lying back down, Alfred let out a happy sigh. Thank god that the bed was soft and comfortable. Eyes were covered by tanned lids as a sigh escaped light pink lips. _Why? Why am I here? I just want to be with my family. My brother . . . We left off on a bad subject. Mattie._ The calling of sleep was burning through Alfred's body. _What happened?_ _I remember him . . . Arthur wasn't it? I accidently hit him with my car. He was . . . He had no pulse. So how? I mean . . . All that blood. _

The pounding of knuckles against wood resonated throughout the room. "Mi escusi," (excuse me) came a timid voice. The dark wooden door, that Alfred had failed to take into account, opened. The silver knob turning and squiggle lightly as the inner mechanics moved and the door opening up more to reveal a lightly tanned face. "Are you a hungry?" beamed a voice that was coated with interest, yet fear.

"No."

The person walked in quietly and was holding a silver covered tray. "Signor Artù requested I make a you some of my a delicious food." It was boy, a thin boy that was Spanish, by Alfred's guess. Light brown hair that came to no longer than the middle of the nape of his neck and possessed a curl on his left side; Alfred nearly laughed at that. _It's like mine, though on the side and thinner._ The boys eyes didn't seem to be opened, but he didn't trip over his feet as he walked around to place the nightstand. "Eat a per favore, at least for Signor Artù's sake!"

"I said no. I'm not hungry and not for him," reinforced Alfred, "I don't know who Artù is, but if he is the Master of the house, then he's the reason to why I am here."

"Ahh," breathed the boy, "But you are here because he wants to a keep you a very safe from ahh . . . I said too much." A lightly tanned hand reached up and rubbed at the back hairs of the owner's head. "I am Feliciano Vargas," smiled the boy, showing off canines that were slightly sharp at the ends. Wait, not slightly were very sharp.

Blue eyes widened as they stared at them. "Dude . . . What's with your teeth?"

Feliciano just stared in the air as if he didn't comprehend the question at all. "Wha-?" questioned the man, no boy, in question. "Oh, my a teeth you mean?" Blue eyes twitched in an irritated fashion. _No, the fucking Easter Bunny; yes, your teeth! _"Isn't obvious?"

"What's obvious?"

"You aren't a that a bright are you?"

A golden brow lifted up high. "And you are brighter than sunshine?"

"I don't like the sun that much!" The boy started to freak out slightly at the word. "It causes skin damage and burns and it's bright!" _'Good recovery! . . . I'm hungry. PASTA!' _"So, Alfredo, you like pasta? You have to like pasta because you are named after pasta. Fresh marinara sauce with a homemade pasta noodles is the best! VE! Pasta is a the best gourmet food a ever!"

Alfred was looking at the Feliciano now with a sudden fear at something wrong. "What are y-"

"Feliciano, you were just to give Alfred his food and leave." The man started to bite his lip and the regret of staying. "Please leave. Go to Ludwig, alright?" A small nod was the only motion that was given as he walked out of the room quietly. "Sorry about that love. Italians are a talkative bunch." _Oh, not Spanish, but close . . ._

Emeralds stared happily at sky blue. "It's fine. Though his teeth were . . . Ya know, sharp."

A chuckle erupted from the pale lips, "Yes, well that runs in his family." The shorted and lighter blonde walked over and sat on the side of the bed, by Alfred's still body. Bed shifting and sinking due to the new weight added to it. "How are you feeling?"

"A bit better, more coherent," Alfred thought of more things to describe how he felt, "A little freaked because I know I hit _you_ with my car."

"Well, yes you did, but`"

Deep endless pools of blue were boring into Arthur's green with heavy confusion accenting the eyes and had fear lurking not far behind. "Then how are you here?!" interrupted Alfred, "How are _you _up and walking like I never did hit you?! You should be _dead!"_

"Well that was a little hurtful that last bit," Arthur coughed lightly to clear his throat to get Alfred's attention at his explanation, "Alfred, dearest, do not fret over that. When the time is right you will know the answers that I assure you, but, now, you must rest and regain your strength."

"No. I need to know. Who are you? Why did you take me? What did you do to me?"

A sigh erupted from Arthur's lips, "I said to wait and wait you will. You are in no condition to know the truth. Recover and be strong like you should be and will be." '_And remember for me; remember the days of old. Lounging in lengthened grass that tickled our sides as we watched to fullness of a blue moon kissing the stars in an endless sea of black. Remember the kisses we shared here and there or the times our soft touches grew to something stronger and possessive.'_

"Why must I wait?"

"Stubborn like always," sighted Arthur, "The time isn't right and you are not well enough."

"That's not an excuse."

Another sighed came about, "And neither is that to gain a reason when I have already given you my final say."

Alfred's golden head fell back onto the soft feathered pillows. "Then tell me . . . Why Feliciano said that the Master of the house was Artù and I know that Artù is Italian for 'Arthur' and you said that your name was Arthur."

"Alfred, please love, give it a rest. Arthur is a popular name of England and that is where you are, England just outside of London." _'God, why did you accurse me with this life and my horrid ability to lie well with him?'_

'_I'm so far from home,' _thought Alfred. "C-can I go home?"

"No," quickly spoke Arthur, "It is unsafe there. Here I can protect you and prevent harm to you."

Alfred looked at Arthur because of the slip. "_You_ will protect me? Why?"

"B-because I was order to," stuttered Arthur, "Just please do not argue with me and eat your food; food will help you get better sooner."

"I'll eat when I'm ready and I'm not hungry now. I just want to sleep."

Arthur stood to his full height, which was shorter than Alfred, "Alright, just eat at some point. I care for you and want you to get better." _'I hope he gets the slips I'm feeding him; they are pure gold!'_ With a quick nod, Arthur promptly left and went to his private room; up the long steps to the top floor of the mansion and to the door on the right. Soft thuds of feet hitting carpeted floor echoed lightly off the decorated walls: portraits and painting clung to the wall like tight leather on a body. There were framed priceless artifacts; protected by the shields of fragile glass. Black leathered shoes of the finest quality paved their way across a golden sea of carpet and walls shined around the moving figure in a blanket of sky blue; Alfred's eye color constantly watching him and the aged color of his lover's hair always close, so that when the pained urge struck Arthur reached down and lightly ran his fingers through the long carpet in memory. Arthur remembered some nights and long days he would just lay on the carpet and cry in silence as his fingers wove in and out of the long strings of fibers.

"If only you understood my love," sighed Arthur as he bent down and just laid on the golden floor, "Knew of what was and what is to come. Pain will come and I hope love will flourish, even if it is not for some years to come. Just let me be close and watch over you; protect you and serve you like a slave and soldier." His light golden head pressed against the golden touch of the carpeted fibers.

Meanwhile, on the floor beneath Arthur's bedroom Alfred stared at the food with disgusted interest. Food was his enemy, ever since he could remember it was the foods doing: made him fat, obese. When he was younger he outweighed all the other kids and it wasn't until he started to grow in height that the weight evened out, but the memories remained. The only thing that kept Alfred going and having friends was his personality, yet none knew that their beloved friend was suffering in the inside. The constant nights of starving himself on purpose and the nights that he would spend jamming his fingers or his toothbrush down his throat in order to bring back out the very things that were making him _fat._ It took years for people to notice the changes in Alfred as he grew from young to old and his condition worsening each day he kept suffering in silence, yet he grew thin and was happy. That was until his brother found out and he was sent for help; on and off Alfred would go a doctor and sometimes a treatment center for help.

Shakily, Alfred got up and grabbed removed the shinning cover to the tray of food. Sky eyes stared at a burger laced with lettuce, tomato, sautéed onions and mushrooms, American cheese, ketchup and mustard lacing the insides of a whole wheat bun and the entrée was surrounded by a Romanian leaf salad with eggs, green peppers, cucumbers, and a side ranch. There were even fries, but the blue eyes kept wandering the tray: a soda in the corner and a thick piece of brownie that had a fair amount a chocolate frosting woven on the top and even chocolate chips were mixed in. Alfred licked his lips and forced himself up. He carried the tray and went into the conjoined bathroom that he thought led to the hall, but was relieved it was a bathroom. Black lid of the toilet was thrown up and the contents of the tray emptied within the black bowl. Blue eyes watched as tanned fingers forced the device to make the water swirl and the food to disappear. As arms wrapped around Alfred's stomach he walked back to his bed and laid down with an "umph". "Want to go home," whispered Alfred.

Emeralds eyes became shielded by pale lids as memories came rushing out the ghosts of a past so long ago, but seemed like yesterday to the vampire. "Alfred . . ." breathed Arthur as the memories continued to soar freely within his mind. "I love you so much that it hurts to wait, but I can't hurt you because of my selfishness."

* * *

_Light snores danced their way to Arthur's sensitive ears. The vampire found the noise comforting in a way; they filled the silence of the cold night. The softs panging of snowflakes hitting the glass windows echoed so faintly that Arthur even had a hard time picking it up, but the panging was persistent throughout the night and continued even when the first lights of dawn emerged from over the tall trees surrounding the small wooden cabin. As the sun climbed through the window Arthur felt tired and managed to fall asleep quickly. However, Alfred was on his way to waking up as the rays hit his face, warming him. He moaned lightly as the tall, tanned body turned. After a few more minutes Alfred pushed himself up and forced himself down the steps. He stopped by the other bed and poked at the sleeping figure. "Hey, its morning," Alfred said in a gruff voice trimmed with sleep, "Sleeping beauty! Sunshine! Up, up." _

_The figure turned onto his other side and grumbled unhappily, "Shhh . . . Daytime."_

_Blue eyes blinked. 'You got to be kidding me,' thought Alfred. With a swift motion of his arms he ripped the blanket off and walked to the kitchen to start breakfast. Sighing at the small amounts of milk and eggs left Alfred pulled out strips of meat from his kill a few days prior. The harsh winter of Virginia was not a kind, nor easy one compared to that of England. Arthur was grumbling at the loss of his shield and his exposed flesh reddened quickly at contact. Green emerald opened up and pulled away from the source. Alfred laid pieces of the meat in a blackened skillet and took the heavy object to the dying fire and placed it on the burning ashes. _

"_Alfred?"_

"_You didn't get up," smiled Alfred lightly as he flipped the venison over in the large skillet. "You need to get up. Not healthy to sleep all day, ya'know."_

"_Maybe not for you, but for me it's natural," Arthur coughed lightly because of the lie he was about to sprout, "I have a small allergy to the sun and I get sunburned easily. So I sleep during the day and do most of my activities during the night." _

"_Well . . ." thought Alfred aloud, "If that's the case I will put some linens on the windows for you when I am done with frying the meat." _

'_He's too considerate.' Arthur let a cough ring from his delicate throat to make the silence dissipate in order to ask a question, "So, Alfred . . . Why are you so accommodating?"_

_Blue eyes didn't move from the black skillet as meat sizzled and browned. "I do not know. I guess because I am lonely." A quick flip of the pieces of meat prevented Alfred from answering, "I've lived here for a while: built a home for myself yet I am still here alone. I wait for that one that I know will complete a void, but until then my home is open to anyone that needs it because that's who I am: someone who seems like a savior in the dark and can provide the unseen." _

_A faint blush had crept its way on Arthur's face due to Alfred's words. 'He sounds so sincere about his words. I . . . I am truly astounded.' "I see. You are an amazing person young Alfred."_

"_Don't chide about being young. I am a man and not much younger than you, kind sir."_

"_Only you would assume as such."_

_Eyes rolled in amusement as that ebony skillet was removed from the heavy heat of dying fire and placed on the wooden table. "Please eat; your body will appreciate it as much as your soul." _

'_What soul? I am a monster.' "Thank you," Arthur spoke softly that it came out as barely a whisper. His lithe body lowered itself in the chair and just stared at the food. 'I cannot digest this. It would be a waste for me to eat this.'_

"_Eat up," smiled Alfred as he sat down by Arthur and stole two pieces of the sizzles meat. _

"_I'm hungry, but not for this," spoke Arthur sadly as he looked at Alfred with bashful eyes, "I am hungry for something more substantial to me." The smaller body got up and fell onto Alfred's taller body; chair pushed back as they both fell onto the cold floor. Creaks vibrated off the walls as the smaller pinned the taller. Alfred was shocked by the strength of the smaller. "I'm sorry, but I must if I am to survive."_

"_You are sick if you eat human!" screeched Alfred._

"_I do not eat humans; I drink their blood because that is what I. Am." With that Arthur swiftly dipped his head down into the bend of Alfred's neck and bite into the soft, tanned flesh with brutality. Alfred released a pained moan in response to the savagery, yet didn't dare move from fear and pain that shook his neck; a moan of intense feeling left Arthur's throat as he drank the sanguine liquid with swift. It was the best thing he had every tasted; rich and sweet and tasted like . . . like life. Arthur could not explain it; life had a taste. Lively and bursting with sweetness was life. It only took a few large gulps to fill Arthur because the liquid was so filling. "Alfred . . . Your blood is amazing." Arthur sucked on the wound he made and licked it clean to help the clotting process. The blood singing to Arthur in ways he could not imagine. It was like light shining on an entire new world. When he was done Arthur pulled back and looked at widened eyes of fear. "I'm sorry, but I will not hurt you any longer. I wish to . . . To be close. That is the term I believe; be close to you." Emeralds looked at the sky in hesitant fear of rejection and it was about to happen. A hurt sigh escaped Arthur's pale lips as he gripped the colony men's chin and stared deeply in the endless pools of blue. "Listen to me, Alfred . . ." spoke Arthur with a commanding tone, "You are to forget about what just happened, to never recall it, never think of it. You will continue on remembering you had just sneezed and I jumped and scared you, which resulted in you falling." Arthur was about to break the connection but thought of one last thing to keep this human, no, this person of interest always close, "And . . . You will be honest with me no matter the embarrassment or betrayal." _

_A silent and still kiss was placed on Alfred's forehead as black pupils widened in understanding. When Arthur broke the connection the American colonist rubbed his head and moaned loudly. "Arthur you sneezed so suddenly and dear God does my head hurt."_

"_Sorry about that poppet," smiled Arthur as he helped the larger up. 'That was the most redundant lie I have ever tried to pass . . . And it bloody worked.' _

"_P-poppet?" blushed Alfred quietly._

_Emeralds widened in realization, "S-sorry . . . I just use that expression a lot and carelessly."_

_As the American colonist stood he ran a hand through his aged golden hair. "It's okay . . . It's just," a smirk spread on Alfred's face as he went to the table to clear it, "I think that you would be the one called poppet, not I."_

_Now the blush turned tables and the Brit was wondering about the man before him. He wonder what was behind those bright and unique eyes and the thoughts that were in his head. A soft smile appeared before Arthur's eyes and then a soft blush like a childhood crush. 'Wait!' Arthur looked at Alfred with interested awe now. "A-Alfred?"_

"_Yes?" asked Alfred as he looked at Arthur, yet his hands working on getting a fire going. _

"_Why did you take me in?"_

_Blue eyes returned to the task at hand, but there was no emotion shown in them as they stared past the twigs and kindling about to be lit on fire. "Because . . . I thought you were gorgeous and . . . That's to expect from me . . ." Alfred's spoke in scattered and slow thoughts, "Expected because I . . . I prefer men by my side . . . Not women." Emeralds stared at the bent figure working on magnify the small flames into a stronger source of heat. "And . . . I want to know you because I think that I'm in love with you."_

* * *

"To think," breathed Arthur as his fingers stroked that golden carpet as if it was Alfred's hair, "That we started off that and that was your first time telling me that you loved me."

* * *

Matthew awoke to a sharp pain vibrating from his face as his body was thrusted to the side by pure force. He opened his violet eyes, wincing in pain, to see the outstretched hand of the man that had captured him. "Morning," smirked Francis, "I want to _play_ today, but first . . ." The America-Canadian felt his hand being taken into a cold grasp. He looked in curiosity and had the desire to pull his hand away, but it was in a steel grip. "Zhis might 'urt," warned Francis as he picked up a pair of old pliers that were used in the First Great War and brought Matthew's hand close to it, "Point and me with one of your fingers . . . Or else suffer something worse."

Worry sprout in Matthew's chest as he began to break out in a cold sweat. "I . . . I refuse."

"Poor zhing. Never learn, stupid American!" sneered Francis as he grabbed Matthews by the throat and held his captive's head still to one side. "I warned you . . ." Francis pressed the old pliers against Matthew's face and with a quick squeeze he clamped them shut.

"AHHHHHH!" cried Matthew as pain shot though him like lightening. The teen felt something warm begin to run among his face. When he opened his eyes something got in them and the room smelled of iron.

Francis picked up the piece of the boy's body that he had just removed, his left ear, and smiled. "Next time you will listen. Now to mail zhis and come back to _play._"

"TWISTED FUCKER!" screeched Matthew.

The Frenchmen paid no heed to Matthew's outbreak or at least not yet because he wanted to get this _present_ sent immediately to an old friend. An old friend that betrayed him. As Francis foot stepped past the door he remembered to stop and take a picture. With a heavy sigh he turned back and pulled out his cellar device and said, "Smile for zhe camera~" A near silent sound echoed off the stone walls as the picture was taken. Only then did Francis leave the room. He locked it and went to his study quickly, having no time to deal with listening to the delicious whimpers of his prey. As quickly as he could he plugged his phone to his laptop and was able to print Matthew's beautifully bloodied and bruised picture. A manila envelope was ready and the picture was placed inside, as was the ear after it was wrapped in a plastic package. A letter was also put inside and then came the address being written on the package once it was sealed. Then all that remained was the wait for the package to arrive to his old friend.

* * *

"Hey Gilbert you have mail," called Elizabeta as she handed him his mail. A pale hand touched her slightly as she blushed.

A grin broke out, "Seems like I can still touch you heart unlike that Austrian brat you fell for!" Blonde eyebrows furrowed in anger and with a stomp of her foot, Elizabeta was rubbing it against Gilbert's over and over and over until he finally got tired of it and left. His eyes looked at the package, "It is heavy, but I did not order anything lately." Once Gilbert was at the dining room table he opened the package and pulled out the letter, but did not open it because a picture fell onto the lacquered surface of the table. A pale hand picked it up and stared at the figure on the paper. "N-no way . . ."

On the photo was Matthew's abused face: littered with bruises, ranging from yellow to purple, and spilt blood running into those violet-blue eyes. Those eyes seemed full of pain, but they stared at Gilbert like they knew him. Red eyes stared back as if they knew the person on the picture. Gilbert turned the picture around and read the name, _Matthew Williams age 19._ "M-Mattea? Did she . . .?" Pale hands quickly opened the letter and scanned it hastily, but throughouly:

"_**Look what I have found old Friend; seems I have been trying to find something that I did not want, but here I have it. I propose a tradeoff – Alfred F. Jones for your reincarnated lover, yes this is your lover reincarnated because the signs are there. Fair trade, non?**_

_** Francis Bonnefoy"**_

"That bastard! He knows where to hit so that it hurts the most, but Mattea did not reincarnate, she wouldn't have." Red eyes wondered to the picture again and those purple-blue eyes bore into him like his Mattea's did and it seemed that these eyes were eerily like the ones that had haunted his dreams those days ago. Pale fingers ripped the smaller, plastic package open as his brain tried to think. However, his thoughts were stopped quickly due to the smell that was released: the stench of rotting flesh. Gilbert knew the smell to well, but when rancid blood appeared on his fingers he dropped the package in pure shock and that shock only worsened when a rotting ear bounced its way out of the package. "Dear God!"

The stench was strong and smelled of death and rot, but underneath it was the scent of something sweet, something that Gilbert thought was lost. "N-no!"

"What is it?!" yelled a startled voice as the Hungarian women made her way back in, "Gilber- What is that?!"

"MATTIE! THAT BASTARD WILL DIE!"

* * *

Please excuse the errors, I have no one editing them for me.

Reviews?


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